


Sword Fight

by strangeboss



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Flarping scourge, also possible dubcon ????, maybe I don't know, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeboss/pseuds/strangeboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You should have known better. It would never be a simple sword fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sword Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo I promised Molly(spacette.tumblr.com yeah ) a fic for her birthday even though her birthday was a while ago oops. But she requested scourge FLARPing turns to fucking or something like that so I finally got around to writing it yep. Also I hope there's no typos considering I wrote this all on my phone so sorry about that.

Why did you ever agree to this?

 

Why in the world would you ever agree to letting Vriska Serket throw her dice, even for the sake of a 'simple sword fight'? Even if you were engaging in one of your best and most successful FLARP sessions yet, you should have known better. It would never be a simple sword fight. You of all people should know that, at this point. But yet, here you were, the blade of your cane screeching and hitting, fighting with her sword in a wicked joust( minus the hoofbeasts, of course). You inhale every scent you can, dodging jabs and swings, occasionally even blocking them and thrusting forward your own cane. However, you make one mistake- one vital mistake you should have known not to make. You pause to breathe, and with your mouth, at that. You intake gasps for breath, sweet air filling your lungs once more- until it's cut off. It's cut off by a familiar bony hand against your neck, and before you even have the time to straighten yourself, retrieve your blade, she's slammed you back against the wall, a thud that rattles your skeleton. Your jaw sets rigidly as you catch a whiff of her blue lips curling into a smile, sharp fangs exposed. "Well, well, well. Looks like you've fallen right into my trap, Neophyte." She taunts, her words drawled out, dripping with disgusting sweetness. 

 

 "I command that you release me immediately, Mindfang," You order through a clenched jaw. It's when you notice exactly how close the girl in front of you is, and how her free hand has found an iron grip on your hip and pressed you further towards the wall when your words begin to falter. They stop completely when her knee presses between your legs, and she's tall enough so that it comes up exactly where she wanted it to, and at this point, your positive she's been planning it out. You curse yourself silently when your hips instinctively shift against her, and she laughs her wicked laugh, directed towards you this time. "I'm only serving the justice that should be." She practically purrs, innocently. 

 At this point, you don't know what she's talking about. But in all honesty, your aren't making a particularly large effort to try and think, because every sentence you try to form is lost as her knee rubs against you slightly, through the thin fabric of your leggings. 

 

 "Mindfang. I said. Release me. Let go. And we will finish our-." You never get to finish your sentence. The words are cut off by a harsh slam of lips against yours, mouths colliding, teeth clashing clumsily and semi painfully. You jump slightly in surprise- but soon come back down. There's no use in fighting her any longer.  Slowly, your black lips fall into some sort of rhythm with her cerulean ones, her fangs occasionally prodding at your lip, your rows of shark like teeth poking and scraping at her tongue. The kiss tastes like blood and blue raspberry, and it's making you quite hot, and you're pretty sure she is as well. You're still pinned to the wall, and you stop trying to fight it when the knee between your legs drops lower, keeping you in place, but no longer touching you. Admittedly, you're disappointed by the lack of touch, and with a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks, notice exactly how hot, and how wet she's made you. And as she slips her hand between your legs once more, her fingers and nails caressing you through fabric, you turn your head away, breathing sharply through your nose, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a moan. 

However, turning your head away may not have been your best idea. With the hand once holding your hip, she grabs your chin, yanking your head to turn toward her once more, and you flinch. "What's wrong, Redglare? Are you. . . Afraid of me? Of your punishment?" She chuckles lowly, and you can feel her eyes practically burning holes through your grey skin. 

 

 "I'll never be afraid of you, or anything you do." You whisper back, in more of a spitting tone. 

You smell the roll of her eyes, the smirk on her lips as she releases your chin, brings it to clutch your hip once more, pressing you to the wall again. It isn't needed though, because when her hand cups you through your teal pants again, you know you aren't going anywhere. You jerk your hips forward slightly as her hand slowly slips into your pants, into your underwear, her cool fingers making contact with your hot, bare skin. You huff slightly, razor sharp teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle whimpers and whines as she begins to touch you, rub you,  tease over your entrance. You can hear her chuckle, her taunting words of, "I've done a good job, haven't I? As per the usual." But you don't care. You're focused on screwing your eyes shut, on the feeling of her stroking over your clit, how it makes your legs turn to jelly and your skin crawl with delight. And you can't help but grab onto her shoulders, part your lips and give a weak moan of satisfaction. "That's it," she murmurs softly, and you stand at your tip toes, red boots squeaking slightly as she slips two long, boney fingers into you. Not just one, like you'd expected of her. And you whimper, loudly. She full out laughs at you, and in your embarrassment, you fall back to your feet, hips hitting her hand gently. The material of your leggings is restricting when she thrusts her fingers, but you don't care. It feels good, and as you press your head to her shoulder in a wave of pleasure, it smells good as well, the most delicious scent of blueberry you've ever had the enjoyment of smelling in your life. Your embarrassment is long gone now, replaced by a lustful fog, each thrust of her fingers producing another moan or groan, shiver down your spine, or jerk of your hips. And as her thumb presses down on your clit again, rubbing it gently, you let out a whine of, "Mindfang," the sound of her name disappearing into her shoulder, your hands clutching her arms. As she brings you closer and closer, stroking your walls, pressing against spots she knows will drive you mad, the moans become a mix of, "Mindfang," and "Serket," and "Vriska," and who knows what else; and who cares? But finally, you press against her when you hit your climax, giving a moaning cry as your hips buck against her hand desperately. And all too soon,  it's over. You collapse against her once more, your cheeks a bright teal, shudders trailing your skin. You didn't notice that you couldn't really see, or smell. But now that you can, you take your head from her neck, sniffing, picking up a grin. And you can't help but smile slightly yourself. However, she's finally taking her hand from your pants, cleaning her fingers with her mouth, which makes you giggle with manic delight. Her hand releases your hip, you let go of her arms, and she speaks once more, as she retrieves her sword. "Now, we never finished our fight, did we, Redglare?" 


End file.
